


Lockdown Redux

by mrsthing



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Humor, Gen, Implied Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:28:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27745993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrsthing/pseuds/mrsthing
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley want to get together during the second lockdown. Aziraphale is a stickler for the rules, Crowley is not. Crowley decides to surprise him, but it turns out to be more of a surprise than he'd planned for. Nevertheless, true love wins. You might find this funny. Some of it is a bit naughty, but there's nothing explicit.
Kudos: 9





	Lockdown Redux

Lockdown Redux

By Judith S. Loukides

Aziraphale’s phone rang for the fifth time that afternoon. The first four times, he’d answered, “A.Z. Fell Booksellers, how can I help you?” And all four times, it had been Crowley. So this time he simply said, “Hello, Crowley.” 

“Angel, I’m so lonely and bored here! I know you don’t want to leave the bookshop, but I could come to you. It’s not like either of us can get sick.”

“Crowley, I’ve told you before: I love you, but we’re in lockdown, and I, at least, have to set a good example for the humans.”

“I could sneak over at night.”

“No, Crowley.”

“I could, though…”

“No, Crowley.”

“Why not?”

“Someone will see you.”

“No they won’t.”

“What about the street lamps?”

“I’ll use the back alleys.”

“What if you come to a dead end?”

“I can fly, Angel!”

“What if someone sees you flying?”

“It will be dark. Nobody will see me. Well, maybe some drunks, but they’ll chalk it up to the booze.”

“And what will people think when they see us together in the shop? That I’m entertaining guests when they can’t have any! It would be terrible for business!”

“Since when have you ever sold a book? And anyway, you’re closed for the pandemic. Who’s going to see me in the shop?”

“Passersby.”

“I thought we were all in lockdown.”

“Well, people still have to go places--the grocery store, the doctor. They pass my window every day. And they always stop to look in.”

“I’ll camp out in the back.”

“Crowley, you know that won’t work. It’s too tight back there as it is.”

Crowley was silent.

“Crowley! You know what I meant!”

Crowley sniggered softly. Aziraphale’s heart melted a little.

“I’m sorry Crowley. I miss you too, my dear, but I don’t see any way around this.”

“You could miracle a blackout shade for the front window. Then nobody could see us.”

“No, Crowley! 

“I’ll bring hot, fresh crepes,” he said. “And...whipped cream,” he said, more suggestively.

Aziraphale sighed. He was definitely caving in. Just the thought of whipped cream made him weak in the knees. They could use it on the crepes as well. “If you must,” he relented. “I’m not doing very well persuading you against it. Just call me beforehand if you’re coming over.”

“When, Angel; not if. When.”

“Right then.” Aziraphale said flatly, just to humor him. “Talk to you later.” 

********************

Aziraphale finished his take-out sushi and tidied up the shop. Since he had no customers to mess it up, he went around during the day, pulling things off shelves and putting them back in the wrong places, knocking stacks askew, and turning over the corners of the rugs, just to have something to do at the end of the day. He straightened out the rugs, neatened the stacks, and put the out-of-place books back where they belonged, tsking and shaking his head at the rudeness of his imaginary customers. It was part of his routine, and he found routine comforting during the lockdown. It lent a sense of normalcy he couldn’t get any other way. He undressed, bathed, and got into his pajamas. He chose the satin ones, just in case Crowley showed up unannounced: satin pants at least four inches too long, with a set in waistband and piped, on-seam pockets; and a satin shirt with a notch collar, straight hem, and piping around the edge of the collar and placket; and sleeves that fell almost to the tips of his fingers. The upscale clothier called the color “Champagne”; they were an indistinct pink-y gold-ish. He wore a cotton night cap with a pompom on the pointed end. It was so last century, but he liked the feeling of them. He sat down on his perfectly made bed (he did love his hospital corners), slipped off his slippers, and swung his legs onto the mattress, pulling the bedding over him as he settled in to read. He wasn’t sure why he bothered to go through the motions of a human bedtime. He didn’t need to sleep, after all. He did it more for Crowley’s sake than anything else. And even though Crowley was across town in his flat, it felt right to continue the custom. He had a sudden pang of longing. He really hoped Crowley would come over, despite his efforts to dissuade him. He picked up his book and started reading.

He woke up a little while later, desperate for a pee. He could have miracled it away, but he rather liked the novelty of his human body and found bodily functions oddly amusing. He walked into the bathroom, dropped his pants, lifted the toilet lid, and screamed. There was a huge black and red snake staring back at him! It was leering at him! He reflexively pulled up his pants and miracled away the pee. The snake spoke. “Well hel- _lo_ there, Angel! Is that a cobra in your pants or are you just happy to see me?”

“CROWLEY! For Heaven’s sake, you scared the bejeebies out of me! Get out of there right now; I--wait...cobra?”

“It has a hood….” Crowley replied, still grinning from one side of his head to the other. 

Aziraphale rolled his eyes and heaved a petulant sigh. “OUT!” he demanded.

Crowley slithered out of the toilet and assumed his human shape, clothes and all. “I suppose you think you’re funny!” Aziraphale said. He wrinkled his nose in disgust. “You smell like--is this a demon thing? You smell like poo!”

“No, it’s not a demon thing. I slithered all the way over here via the sewer system. Nobody saw me--well, except for a couple of very surprised night shift sewer workers. They’ll go home and tell the story, nobody will believe them; they’ll begin to doubt themselves, and that will be the end of it. And if they do try to find me, well...here I am!” He spread his arms wide, and grinned mischievously. “Crowley,” Aziraphale intoned, “You’ve got other people’s poo all over you!” Crowley’s smile faded and he noticed the brown matter and bits of soggy paper. “Oh. Yecch!” He miracled it away in an instant. He resumed his open armed stance and grin. “Well? Can I get a hug from my angel?”

“You didn’t bring crepes to me through the sewers, did you?” Aziraphale asked weakly. 

“Of course not. I can miracle them here any time I want,” he said airily. Then, more softly, “Any time _you_ want, Angel.”

Aziraphale glowered affectionately at him. All the spit and vinegar had gone out of him. It was hard to stay mad at Crowley. He straightened his shirt and stepped into Crowley’s open arms. As their bodies melted into each other, from somewhere in the night, they could hear music. “Now that you’ve come back, turned night into day, I need you to stay…” “That’s not Queen, that’s Journey!” Crowley exclaimed. “Shhh, love…it’s perfect!” Aziraphale whispered. Crowley wrapped his arms tighter around Aziraphale. This was the kind of lockdown they’d both been hoping for.


End file.
